


Dragon Fire In Our Hearts

by Rynmaru



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Adventure, Ages Are Not Canon, Alternate Universe, Boy x boy relationship, Dragons, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-12 17:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynmaru/pseuds/Rynmaru
Summary: Dragons are a fundamental part of the world. They stabilize the elements and govern nature as the majestic yet terrifying rulers that predate the human race. Humans known as the Dragon Tamers now word alongside the dragons to ensure the peace of both races, and every year, new apprentices are chosen to join their ranks.Jean Kirstein is a University student intent on following through on his plans to practice law. But when a trip home results in him being chosen as the next apprentice to the local Dragon Tamer his stable world is yanked out from under him. Doubting the choice of his new Master and frightened by the unknown world he has entered, Jean struggles to live up to his own expectations. But a darkness is stirring, his teacher, Reiner Braun, has secrets he refuses to tell, and the demons of the past are refusing to stay dead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Tony ^~^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prelude

A nightmare. That was what this was. Nothing else could equal the horror the fifteen year old boy felt as he sprinted across the field, clouds of ash flying upward every time his feet made contact with the earth.  


“Shale!” He screamed. “Shale, where are you?!”  


His foot caught on a rock and the boy fell sprawling in the dirt and ash. Smoke washed over him in a choking haze, stinging his eyes. He cried out and looked down at his hands, scraped raw and bloodied by the fall. He coughed, a rough, hacking sound and got upright once again, running once more. What shrubbery remained on the field was smoldering, orange sparks flying on the breeze and the ruddy glow of flames casting a dim, flickering light over the remains of his clothing. The once neat brown tunic was in tatters and scorched. Burns marked his legs and arms, his face was smudged with dirt and blood, and his short blonde hair was plastered against his head on one side and dyed rust red with blood.  


“Shale!! Please!” He wailed, voice breaking. Then the clouds of smoke shifted and he saw a massive figure collapsed on the ground. The boy broke into a full sprint and fell to his knees by the head of a massive dragon.  


“Shale… Shale, wake up. Wake up we have to leave! Master Zeke is dead! It's not safe we have to leave!” He ran his hands lovingly over the rough black and grey scales of the dragon’s snout. He felt the slightest puffs of warm air from its nostrils. “Please...I'm scared...You need to get up…”  


There was no response and the boy moved to hug the dragon around the neck. His arms and hands came away dark with blood.  


A shadow fell over the stunned boy and he looked up at a dark silhouette of a man, eyes glinting in the depths of his hood. Tears fell down the boy’s pale face, tracing clean streaks in the filth on his skin.  


“Get up, child. Get up and get away from that dragon. You’ll be joining it soon enough.”  


Shaking his head, the boy doubled over, sobbing. “You killed Master Zeke...you killed Aget… Why are you doing this?!”  


“I said get up!” A booted foot slammed into the boy’s stomach and sent him flying. He tumbled across the open ground and landed hard, retching and coughing up blood. “Please...stop…”  


“You damn runt...get up! Get up and face me like a man.”  


A rustling, scraping sound came from behind them and the boy lifted his head, dazed. The great grey and black dragon was slowly rising so it's feet, it's thick body rippling with muscle and it's eyes opening to reveal glowing gold irises that matched those of its Tamer. A low, dangerous snarl rumbled in its throat and vibrated the air around them.  


The sight of this new and certainly more formidable threat did not seem to concern the cloaked figure. He turn to face the dragon and walked forward slowly, reaching into the folds of his cape and drawing forth a blade that shone like starlight in the darkness.  


“Shale…no…” The boy groaned. But the dragon paid him no heed. It roared and lunged towards the man who had attacked its Tamer, the great teeth glinting and its maw stretched wide. There was a sickening sound of metal scraping over stone followed by a wet crunch. The boy’s gold eyes met those of his dragon, wide and filled with tears as the beast shuddered and seemed ready to fight again. There was another crunch and a tearing of flesh and muscle, and the light in those majestic eyes faded until they were little more than dull yellow, blank and empty.  


The warrior pulled his blade free. The silver shone, unmarred by blood and as clean as before it had entered the heart of the boy’s dragon. “That was a foolish thing for your monster to attempt.”  


He turned back to the boy and smiled, a savage grin devoid of any real humor. “Now. Let's put an end to you.”  


The boy scrambled to his feet but otherwise remained frozen, shocked, his eyes wide as tears coursed down his face. His eyes remained fixed on his dragon, heartbroken numbness slowly giving way to something far more useful. Rage.  


His eyes slowly turned towards the man approaching him. The man who had killed his teacher, his teacher’s dragon, and his own bondmate, the dragon that had been by his side for ten years now.  


“Shale...I'm so sorry…” The boy whispered.  
The blade rose high, glittering against the dark clouds above. Then it descended in a swift, merciless arc. The boy screamed, a sound of raw grief, anguish, and defiance. And the world exploded in earth and fire.


	2. Chapter 2

“Dragons are a fundamental part of the world. They stabilize the elements and govern nature as the majestic rulers that predate the human race. But when our kind were first formed and entered this world, we treated the dragons as mere animals, hunting and killing them for their treasures and their armored hides. Furious, the dragons declared war on our race…”  


Jean smiled as the wagon he rode on passed the crowd of village children clustered at the feet of one of the elders, a wizened old woman with white hair and a face as wrinkled as a dried apple. The story she told was a familiar one, a likely embellished fairytale told all across the land and that he had heard time and time again. A childish version of their world’s history.  


The wagon jolted to a halt in front of the village’s general store and the driver turned to face him.  


“Right, this is as far as I'm takin’ ye. Yer goin’ ta hafta find yer own way from here.”  


His thick accent made Jean smile a bit and he hopped down off the back, walking around to hand the man two silver shillings. “Thank you for the ride, sir.”  


Turning, Jean started walking across the large square, the packed earth street below his feet feeling strange after almost two years walking on cobblestones in the city at University in the capital. Around him rose the whitewashed houses of his farming village, the thatched roofs adding a quaint, picturesque quality to the village. Horses whinnied in side stables and oxen lowed out in the fields, the sound carried on the wind. People chattered and haggled over prices in the main square, and children tumbled about in their play. It was a simple life, but it was home. Jean inhaled deeply, a smile crossing his face as he shifted his pack on his shoulders and continued walking.  


“Jean? Jean Kirstein?” A voice said from his right. He turned to see a round, freckled face poking out of a shop window. A huge smile press across the young man’s face. “It is you!”  


Ducking inside, the figure vanished only to come hurtling out the door. Jean dropped his pack and met him halfway, the two embracing tightly.  


“Marco! Marco Bodt! By the gods, I never thought I’d see the day when you stayed inside playing shopkeeper.” Jean said with a grin, holding his friend at arms length. “Look at you! Taller than me and with a solid head on your shoulders. What happened to my best friend who wandered into the woods in search of dragons and fairies?”  


Laughing, Marco nudge an elbow into Jean’s ribs. “I could say the same about you! You've slimmed down since I've last seen you and you finally cut that long hair off. City life has treated you well, sir.”  


Jean shook his head and pulled Marco into another hug. “I missed you, Marco. I wish you could have come with me...the University is everything you'd like in a school.”  


“I'm sure it is...But I couldn't leave my family, Jean. You know that…” Marco looked wistful. “You'll have to be educated enough for the both of us.”  


Biting his lip, Jean nodded. Then Marco clapped his hands, as if the loud noise would scare away the growing awkwardness. “Well! You'll have to come over later and tell me everything you can about the city. And in return I'll tell you all the gossip you've missed while you've been away.”  


“I’ll do that. But not tonight.” Jean pat Marco on the shoulder. “I'm going home to visit my mom tonight. She doesn't know I'm coming and I want to surprise her.”  


“Better run then. News travels fast in this town, and people are bound to notice that our favorite college boy is back home.” Marco grinned and ruffled his hair. “See you later, Jean.”  


“Will do! I can't wait until tomorrow, Freckles.”  


Stooping to pick up his bag, Jean watched as Marco returned to his family bakery shop. He took his time brushing off the bag, fixing his clothes, and smoothing his hair, wanting to look his best when he arrived home. He started walking again, waving to a few other familiar faces in the square before turning down a side street towards his family home. He paused at the front gate, looking into the small, fenced in yard containing the garden his mother tended with meticulous care, the crooked brick path that led to the front door, the flowers in the window boxes. A lump formed in his throat. After two years away with limited contact, letters could only travel so fast after all, he was home.  


Opening the gate, Jean ignored the squeal of hinges and went to the door in a few long strides, knocking loudly.  


“Coming! I'm coming!” His mother’s voice rang out and the latch rattle as it was slid back and the door swung open to reveal his mother in the doorway. “Now Sasha, I've told you already-”  


Her lecture faded on her tongue as she looked up at Jean in some confusion. Then her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with one hand.  
“Jean?”  


A giddy smile crinkled the corners of Jean’s hazel eyes. “Yes, Mom. I'm home.”  


“Oh, Jean!” He was pulled into a warm hug and returned it just as eagerly, breathing in the scent of herbs and homemade soap and home cooking that he remembered from his childhood. They stood locked in their embrace for a long moment before his mother pulled away.  


“Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?! I would have prepared something special for you!”  


Jean chuckled. “Mom, please don't worry. I wanted to surprise you and a letter wouldn't have made it in time anyways.”  


“Hmm.” His mother put her hands on her hips as she looked up at him. “In that case don't stand outside, Jeanbo. Come in! Sit down and tell me about how you've been and what you're learning!”

Ashlyn Kirstein was a plump woman, all soft curves and gentle warmth. Her ash brown hair was streaked with hints of grey at the roots and pulled back into a tight bun, though wisps had escaped and fallen around her round face, curling slightly in the steam rising from the pot she was tending. Her hands were calloused from work and her plain brown dress and apron bore smudges of dirt and flour from a day spent tending her garden and baking. Jean resembled her greatly, from his hair color to the clever hazel eyes that never missed a trick, though his height and angular features could be attributed to his late father.  


Watching his mother from his seat at the kitchen table, Jean felt a flash of nostalgia for his childhood. For the days spent playing in the square with Marco or learning his sums and letters at this same worn table, only to run outside and into his father’s arms as soon as he heard the squeak of the front gate. He picked at a scratch in the tabletop with one fingernail as he breathed in the savory aroma of stew that filled the first floor of the small house.  


“Won't you let me help you with that?” He asked for the fifth time.  


His mother cast him a fond of exasperated glance. “Jeanbo, that's very sweet of you, but no. Let me take care of you, I haven't been able to for two years now.”  


She pinched his cheek as she passed and he couldn't hide a smile. He leaned back in the chair as his mother ladled the stew into two carved wooden bowls and brought them over to him along with pewter spoons and mugs. Jean thanked her and then, as she held out her hand to him, he took it and bowed his head.  


“I thank the gods for the gift of this food, and for bringing my son home safe to me.” His mother intoned reverently, her free hand clutching the simple iron pendant that hung from a cord around her neck and was inscribed with a line of verse from the holy book. Jean murmured an obligatory “amen” before picking up his spoon and starting to eat, ravenous after his long journey.”  


“Goodness! Haven't you eaten anything today?” His mother exclaimed in some amusement.  


“I have,” Jean mumbled through a mouthful, then swallowed and continued. “But the food on the train from the capitol is so expensive! So I bought a roll and some cheese to eat on the wagon ride from Shiganshina to here. But it wasn't much and it's been a long day.”  


Eating with more decorum than her son, Ashlyn shook her head a little. “It must have cost you a fortune to take the train that far…”  


“Don't worry. I've been saving the money I earn working as a stable boy for the University.” Jean said. “I didn't steal the money.”  


“Of course you didn't!” His mother looked insulted at the very idea. “You're a good boy, Jean. You wouldn't do anything like that.”  


Silence fell between them as they ate. It wasn't until Jean’s spoon scraped clean the bottom of his bowl that he leaned back and began telling his mother everything he could think of about his time at the University. He touched on subjects like his classes and the workload only to flit over as a stray thought reminded him of something else exciting, of the sightings of lavish courtiers in the wealthy part of the city that surrounded the school. Of parties he had attended at the invitation of some of his wealthier friends. Of the beautiful buildings and rare foods brought from all around the world. The more he talked, the more animated Jean became, starting to use his hands as he gestured and tried to create a visual picture as well as a verbal one.  


“You've seen and done so much already.” His mother said in a tone of wonder. “Your father would be so proud...he always said you could be more than a farmer if you put your mind to it, and now you're on your way to doing just that.” She looked at him, her face radiant with pride. “You've grown older and wiser these past two years, Jean.”  


Ducking his head to hide the light flush rising to his cheeks, Jean shrugged, smiling ruefully. “I may be older, but I'm certainly not much wiser. I still manage to get myself into trouble more often than you'd approve of.”  


“If you didn't then you wouldn't be my boy anymore.” His mother said good humoredly. “The Jean I know never missed a chance for adventure even if it meant trouble.”  


She began to stand but Jean was faster. “Mom, let me clean up. It's been two years since I've been able to help you and you've been doing everything yourself for long enough. As long as I’m here, I’ll be the one taking care of you and pulling my weight. You deserve a chance to rest.”  


Ashlyn looked at him for a long moment before heaving a sigh and smiling up at him. “Alright. But mind you don't scratch the tableware!”  


Grinning at the familiar instruction, Jean gathered their dishes and brought them to the sink. “Yes, ma’am.”  


It was a soothing atmosphere, the first floor of their house illuminated by the warm firelight, the lingering scent of the stew hanging in the air mingled with the fresh scents of the night that wafted in through the open windows, and the sound of the scrape of the brush over the dishes and the swish of soapy water. It was perfect.  


“I saw Marco when I arrived.” Jean told his mother. “You never mentioned in your letters that he’s running the family business.”  


“He has to.” His mother said, looking up at her son from the table. “His father died six months ago and he’s the only one left to take care of his siblings.”  


Jean nearly dropped the bowl, eyes wide with shock. “He never told me that when he wrote...that’s horrible.”  


He felt a stab of guilt as he remembered Marco’s bright smile and the pain it must be hiding. He would have to talk to Marco about this privately at some point.  


“Yes it was quite a shock. But Marco’s a smart young man and he’s done a wonderful job of taking responsibility and caring for both his family and the business.”  


Jean set the dishes aside to air dry and dried his hands on a worn dish towel, deep in thought. The news of the tragedy that had struck Marco’s family only served to remind Jean of the fact that time had continued marching forward in his village the same as it had in the city, and even though his home appeared unaltered, behind closed doors things were never as they seemed.  


'What else has changed since I left…?' He wondered bleakly.  


“Jean?” Ashlyn’s voice broke through his thoughts and startled him back to the present. “You're looking a bit grim...why don't you go up to your room and sleep? You've had a long journey and we can talk more tomorrow.”  


Jean only hesitated a moment before exhaustion prodded him to nod his agreement. His body ached from where it had been bumped and jostled on the rough roads in the back of a wagon and his full stomach made him feel contented, warm, and drowsy.  


“Alright...Then I'll see you tomorrow morning.” Jean said, going forward and kissing his mother. She cupped his cheek briefly, her gaze tender.  


“Take the lamp with you.” She told him. “Goodnight, Jean.”

“Goodnight.” Jean waited until his mother went to her bedroom on the ground floor before striking a match and lighting a kerosene lantern. He set it on the table and then proceeded to douse the fire until all that remained were embers, the charred black coals cut through with thin veins of molten red where heat still remained.  


Turning away, Jean took the lantern and climbed the narrow flight of stairs to his old room. Despite him having been gone for several years, it smelled fresh and was clean, the bed ready made for him.  


Jean sighed and dropped his traveler’s pack to the floor, sitting on the bed to remove his boots and then shedding his clothes down to his boxers in preparation for sleep. Falling back into bed, Jean turned his head and reached to extinguish the bright light of the lantern before rolling over and drifting into sleep, the ghostly after image of the white flame still dancing across the inside of his eyelids.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update! Life and writer's block hits you like a truck sometimes. But here it is! I hope you all enjoy and please leave some comments, it really spurs me to write more.

Cold. That was what woke Jean first. Cold, damp wind rushing through the open windows of his room, setting the white curtains to fluttering like ghosts in the grey light of pre-dawn.  


Shivering, Jean pulled the thin blankets close around himself and curled into a ball. He had forgotten how cold it got in his village. Located at the foot of a treacherous mountain range, the village was subject to the icy winds that blew down from the snowy peaks above in the morning and all throughout the night. Two years spent in the Capitol, located on the sun drenched plains and surrounded by luxuries like extra blankets and pillows and coal to burn instead of firewood, had thinned his blood and Jean mentally cursed his lack of resilience.  


His body heat slowly warming his blankets and the air inside them, Jean began to drift off into a light doze once again, content to drift semi-conscious through incoherent dreams.  


Jean was standing in the bell tower of the University, gazing out across the surrounding square, the buildings, and the city beyond. The view was as breathtaking as ever, and he watched as the sun began rising over the trees. Behind him, the bells began tolling out the time, iron tongues crashing against iron throats and making the air vibrate with their sonorous song.  


“Bong. Bong. Bong.”  


The notes resonated deep inside Jean’s chest, shaking him to his core as the song continued.  


“Bong. Bong. Bong.”  


His eyes slowly opening, Jean blinked and grimaced at the light. Sunbeams streamed through the open window and Jean sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and lazily watching the golden motes of dust dancing in the shafts of sunlight. The house below was quiet though outside he could hear the rumble of wagons making their way out to the fields and orchards.  


Getting up, Jean tread lightly on the squeaky floorboards with an was that came from years of sneaking about during his childhood. He took out fresh clothes from his pack and dressed, smoothing the blue, plain-cloth vest and fixing the white collar of his shirt before donning boots and descending the stairs.  


He found breakfast ready for him on the table, porridge with maple sugar, and an omelette. His stomach growled and he smiled to himself as he sat down to eat. It had been a while since he had been able to eat a home-cooked meal and he savored every bite as he gazed out the open front window towards the dirt road, watching the passing laborers. His mother was nowhere to be seen out front which meant she had likely gone into town.

The call of the market proved to be too strong for Jean to resist and within the hour he found himself standing once again in the busy square, gazing around at the people bustling to and fro, going about their daily business. Several school aged children rushed past him, fists clenched tight around a shilling’s worth of money, enough to buy lunch during their recess.  


Chuckling, Jean turned and walked towards the Bodt Family bakery. He pushed the door open and the familiar tinkle of the small bell over the door made him smile involuntarily. How many times had he and Marco driven his best friend’s family crazy by running in and out of that door just to hear the pretty sound of the bell when they had first gotten it? Enough to be chased outside for the day.  


The storefront was manned by a skinny girl with dark brown hair tight into a neat bun and a light spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. The white apron she wore was too long and had been hemmed, and judging by the somewhat sloppy handiwork he assumed it had been Marco’s doing.  


“Welcome, what can I get for you today, sir?” She asked, her tone a bit nervous.  


Jean smiled warmly at her. “I take it you don't recognize me. I know I barely recognized you. Little Jenna Bodt, who used to beg Marco and I to take her fairy hunting, standing here working the front counter of the shop. You've grown up a lot.”  


A burst of laughter sounded from a door to Jean’s right and he turned to see Marco leaning in the entrance, sleeves rolled back and flour dusting the bare skin.  
“You sound like an old man, Jean. Lighten up, you've been away for two years, not two decades.”  


“Sure feels like two decades,” Jean mumbled. “Especially when I look at Jenna! She’s grown up so much!”  


Marco rolled his eyes. “So was there a reason you came here today or was it only to flirt with my sister?”  


“Flirt with your-?!” Jean sputtered then threw up his hands in defeat. “Look, I came to see my best friend, and to satisfy my craving for something sweet. So I'll need a box of those famous Bodt sugar cookies pronto and maybe an hour of your time.”  


A familiar grin spread across Marco’s face. “Alright. Alright you win. I'll have Jenna wrap up a box for you and mind the store while we go for a walk.”  


“That's the spirit.” Jean cheered, leaning on the counter to watch as Jenna began packing up the paper-lined box with confections.  


“So where were you thinking about walking-?”

A sound tore through the air, a high, deafening peal of bells clanging in discord. A sound that stirred the blood and induced a lingering sense of dread. It was a sound Jean had only heard once in his life, and there was no one in that town or any town in the region that was unaware of what the cry of the bells meant.  


Jean turned to look at Marco who stared back with wide eyes, freckles standing out stark against his suddenly pale skin.  


“A Dragon Choosing.” Marco whispered. Then he gasped. “Oh...oh crap. Danny!”  


He turned towards his sister quickly. “Jenna, go upstairs and clean up, okay? I'm going to get your brother. Jean, please excuse us.”  


“Of course. Don't worry I'll meet you after this.” Jean murmured, already making his way to the door.

The Dragon Choosing ceremony was among the most hallowed rituals in the country second only to the crowning of a new ruler and marriage. Every few years or so a one of the nation’s guardians, a member of the Dragon Tamers’ guild, would appear in a town or village under their protection and choose a child between the ages of six and twelve to apprentice to them and follow in their footsteps.  


The last time Jean had heard of a Ceremony happening had been in a town two leagues away when he was six. It was a great honor to be chosen, but bittersweet, for the new apprentice often failed to return home for at least five years, sometimes ten. No wonder Marco looked so shaken. Both of his siblings fell neatly into that category at the age at of six and twelve exactly.

A crowd was gathering, flooding the square and Jean had to push and shove to get into any position to see. Fifteen children lined up already, facing the road leading directly to the forest path into the mountains, and more were joining them, forming straight, even lines. Their mothers kissed their cheeks and their father's pat them on the shoulder.  


As Jean watched, Marco led his siblings to a place in line, Jenna with her hair brushed and now falling down to her shoulders, and Danny, the child who was his brother’s miniature, standing beside her. Marco exchanged words and hugs with both of them before standing at the edge of the crowd to watch, biting his thumbnail anxiously.  


Jean moved over to stand beside his friend. “You going to be okay?”  


“Yeah...I'll just be glad when this is over…” Marco mumbled, brows knit together with concern.  


“Well on the upside, if one of your siblings gets chosen then your family is town famous! You'll get so much publicity that people will come to your shop from miles around!” He slapped Marco on the back, trying to ease the tension.  


“Jean…”  


“I mean it! You’ll be celebrities!”  


“Jean!” Marco said sharply. “Look!”  


Jean turned and his eyes widened as they followed the path of Marco’s pointing finger, down to the fringes of the forest. A figure was walking towards them, hazy in the shadows of the trees, but growing more and more clear. A hush swept over the crowd and the children fidgeted as the man entered the clearing and stood before them, scanning their young faces with eyes like molten gold.  


The man was taller than most of the men Jean had ever known, broad-shouldered and dressed in light chainmail under a tunic. All this was covered by a dark black, open trench coat. The sleeves were cut off and as he folded his arms over his chest it allowed for a perfect view of his bulging biceps. A light breeze ruffled the Tamer’s blonde hair, stinging some color into his pale cheeks. A nose that appeared to have been broken twice, set jaw, and thin eyebrows that seemed furrowed in a permanent scowl completed his appearance. A white dragon about the size of a large house cat was perched on one shoulder, watching the crowd through vibrant blue eyes.

“Woah…” Jean heard himself whisper. Marco just nodded in silent agreement. There was absolutely no doubt that this was a Tamer to be reckoned with.  


The man said nothing, but only started pacing the lines of children before him. No grand speeches, not a single word, just the silent progression down the line. He stopped in front of every child but he always moved on. One line. Two. Three.  


Nothing. There were only two lines left. One and a half. One. Jean heard Marco sigh softly as the man passed his little brother by with barely a second glance. Then the man had passed the last child by. He looked irritated, turning his head to look at the dragon. Jean was close enough to hear him whisper to it harshly.  


“What do you mean it's none of them?! It has to be. Who else is there?”  


His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head, as if listening. Jean raised an eyebrow. This guy seemed like the dragon was actually talking to him.

“You.”  


Jean flinched, looking up directly into those burning eyes and taking an abrupt step back.  


“Woah! Woah, yeah okay, um...You...you speaking to me or…?” He gestured vaguely to the crowd behind him, the crowd that had drawn back a couple of paces.  


“No I was talking to your freckled friend. Of course I'm talking to you, dumbass.” The Tamer let out an aggravated huff of breath.  


Jean held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. Okay, what do you want?”  


The Tamer narrowed his eyes. “How old are you?”  


“Nineteen, why-?”  


“Nineteen?!” The Tamer swore loudly, brushing the dragon off his shoulder. It tumbled towards the ground then flared its wings and rose to hover by the man’s shoulder. “Him?! You want him?! He's not right for the job! He's way older than regulation, looks like a University student, and probably assumed dragons were fairytales until today! How can it be him?!”  


A murmur of hushed whispers sounded through the crowd as they began to voice their confusion. Jean looked to Marco who had backed up a couple of paces but received only a confused stare in response.  


Turning back to the Tamer, Jean bit his lip hard before taking a step forward. “What are you talking about? What job?”  


A harsh glare fixed on him and he quailed under it, mouth going dry. “I mean the job as my apprentice and the next Dragon Tamer of this region. Congratulations. You're the one I'm choosing.”

Silence fell again, but this time it was not out of respect, but from shock. Jean stood slack-jawed, his eyes widening until he looked like a moon-dazed deer.  
The man before him turned away and the dragon alighted on his shoulder.  


“We've wasted too much time here. Let's get going.”  


Those words snapped Jean out of his daze. “Wait...wait what?! Go? Apprentice? What the hell are you talking about?! I'm not going anywhere!”  


“My god, use that brain of yours, college boy! I've chosen you as my apprentice and once I do that I'm as stuck with you as you are with me. Now follow me. You can go on your own two feet or I can throw you over my shoulder and take you up the mountain kicking and screaming.” For the first time, a wry smile quirked the corners of Tamer’s mouth as he glanced at Jean over his shoulder. “Your choice.”  


As he continued walking away, Jean slowly turned to look at the crowd. Stunned faces gazed back at him. Faces he had known all his life now looked at him like he was a total stranger.  


“Marco…” He looked to his friend, utterly lost.  


Marco shook his head. “You...You should go, Jean…”  


Jean stared at him then scanned the crowd. His mother. He had to say goodbye to her. He could not just leave without speaking to her. But she was nowhere in sight and the sea of blank faces was as insurmountable a barrier as a sheer cliff-face.  


Slowly, Jean turned his back on the only home he had ever known and walked after the Tamer. His footsteps on the cobblestone street echoed in the silence until stone became dirt and he caught up to his new teacher. He walked in resigned silence, leaving his whole life behind and entering the unknown.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are so many questions swarming in Jean's mind right now, questions he grapples with from the base of the mountain all the way to the peak as he reaches his new home.

Jean was torn between lagging behind the Tamer to prolong his departure and keeping close at his heels to avoid getting lost. The forest has always seemed so magical and full of adventure when he was a child, but it’s charm was nowhere to be found now. It was all towering trees blotting out the sky, their leaves casting the paths below into a state of eternal twilight.  


Jean decided to keep up. He jogged behind the Tamer until he was right behind him. He received no acknowledgement and he felt a bit relieved by that. He didn't know what he would have said if he was addressed. So they trudged on, the silence broken only by the scrape of boots over rock and dirt.  


It was well after noon by the time the path began turning upwards and the ascent began. The path became well worn steps, the stone cracked with age and covered in slick moss in some places. Jean picked his way up while his guide walked with purpose, clearly having walked this path many times before. Jean finally stopped and leaned against the rock wall beside him.  


“C...can't we take a break? I'm dying…”  


The Tamer looked back at him through narrowed eyes, disdainful and disappointed.  


“Dying? You don't know what that word means. Keep moving, we have to make it before dark.”  


He walked on, leaving Jean to mutter and swear and find his way up after him, feet dragging.  


“How far do we have to go?” He asked after a while.  


“To the top of the mountain.” The Tamer replied grimly. “Think you’re up to it college boy?”  


Jean huffed. “Of course I am. I’m not a child.”  


“If you were a child I’d be carrying you right now.”  


Jean pulled a face at the Tamer, exasperated. A moment later the man chuckled, a low rumble that reminded Jean of distant thunder.  


“Perhaps he’s a child after all…”  


Jean could hear the dragon making a soft sound that he could only assume was laughter. He felt his ears reddening with embarrassment. Was he nothing but a joke to this man? He may not have been what he wanted, but surely the fact that he was chosen meant something!  


The white dragon on the Tamer’s shoulder turned to face Jean, ice blue eyes glowing faintly in the shadowed forest. Jean swallowed hard as he was fixed with the piercing gaze and glanced away. Damn. This silence was growing more uncomfortable by the second.  


“So...you got a name?” He asked after a moment.  


Silence. The dragon turned away, seeming to shake its head in disgust. Jean’s shoulders slumped. This was just getting worse and worse. All he had wanted was to come home for a break during school, catch up with his mother and some old friends, and then head back to school. And now everything was abruptly spinning out of control and he couldn't get his bearings.

The air grew colder and thinner and Jean began struggling, his breathing labored as his lungs struggled to compensate for less oxygen. It was then that the Tamer stopped, leaning against the rock wall.  


“Rest.” He ordered. “At this rate you won't make it to the summit.”  


Jean sank down to sit on the steps, legs shaking after climbing for so long. He grimaced and put his head between his knees to take slow, deep breaths.  


“How...how much further…?” He asked.  


“Two hours if we keep a good pace. Three or four if we don't.” The Tamer said. “We’ll make it before nightfall, that's what matters.”  


Jean looked up at him. “Are you going to give me some answers? I...I don't understand what’s happening.”  


The Tamer studied him for a moment through his strange eyes. “I'll give you some answers. For every mile up we walk I'll answer one of your questions, if only to keep you quiet the rest of the time. We have ten miles to go so you'd best start thinking.”  


“Can I ask one now?” Jean said hopefully.  


“If it'll motivate you to keep going.”  


“Why did you choose me?”  


The man sighed heavily. “Of course...the question I don't have a real answer to.”  


“But you have to know something! You didn't just pick at random, otherwise you would have just chosen a child.”  


“I'm not the one who chooses. The dragon is the one who knows and who tells me who my apprentice will be.”  


Jean scowled and eyed the dragon. “The dragon chooses? But how? That doesn't make sense! It chose wrong!”  


A snarl twisted the dragon’s snout, revealing sharp teeth as she lashed her tail.  


“The dragon is never wrong. No matter how unlikely that may seem.” The Tamer said with confidence, though the glance he gave his dragon indicated that he too had doubts.  


“But how do they know?” Jean pressed.  


“They just do. It's an instinct we humans can't comprehend.” The Tamer shrugged as he turned away. “Let's keep moving. You've asked more than one question and if I don't cut you off now then we’ll be here until nightfall.”

As it was, they only just made it to the top of the steps just before nightfall, the sun no more than an orange glow on the horizon as the stars came out in the indigo sky above them. Jean leaned over, hands on his knees as he caught his breath, sweat rapidly growing cold on his skin and causing him to shiver.  


“Come on.” The Tamer said. “We’re here.”  


He began walking along a cracked and uneven cobblestone path. Jean looked up as light flares ahead of him and his eyes widened as the shadows were dispersed and revealed a massive lodge-styled home built right up against the mountain.  


Jean could not help but gasp and followed with renewed vigor, spurred on by the sense of warmth the home exuded.  


He followed the Tamer through the double doors, noticing the carved dragons along the doorframe, the shadows cast by the flickering lanterns on either side of the door giving them the illusion of movement. His boots sank into a thick carpet and the door closed behind him almost soundlessly. The Tamer trudged forward, shaking snow and slush off his boots and onto the rug.  


“There’s stew on the hearth in the kitchen of you’re hungry. Your room is the first door on the left upstairs. If I catch you snooping anywhere else I'll feed you to the dragons.”  


Jean flinched, “Right...aren't you going to-”  


“Tomorrow. Right now I’m going to bed.”  


The Tamer was already at the top of the stairs, rounding the corner without another word.

Jean stared after him, dejected and exhausted.  


He wandered the first floor until he found the kitchen. It was in a shocking state of neglect and disarray, a far cry from his neat and tidy home at the base of the mountain. Dishes piled up on top of each other in the sink, some still covered in food that had long ago gone bad. It was nearly enough to put Jean off eating. Nearly.  


He sighed and went to the cast iron pot hanging over the dying embers in the fireplace, picking up a bowl that appeared clean and ladling the lukewarm stew into it. Pulling up a chair, Jean sat and tried to warm himself, his numb hands cupping the warm bowl as he looked around at the flickering shadows cast over the wall and the faint reddish light glinting on pots and pans.  


A strange silence filled the house, a silence that was occasionally broken by sounds that would have been unnoticable anywhere else, but now set Jean on edge. The scrape of his spoon against the bottom of the wooden bowl, the steady drip of water from a source he could not identify, and other noises that had no parallels to things Jean was familiar with and thus set his mind to racing.  


He finished eating quickly and cleaned the bowl before going in search of his room, treading lightly on the stairs and freezing at even the softest of creaks. It was a relief to slip into his room and shut the heavy door firmly behind him.  


Feeling around with only the light of the crescent moon to guide him, Jean found the bed, undressed, and crawled under the covers, his tired body giving way to sleep as soon as he lay his head down to rest.  


Tomorrow would provide the answers he sought, and all he had to do now was sleep.

If only it were that easy. Jean was left tossing and turning much of the night, starting back to full consciousness at every scrape of falling stone and the moan of the wind as it blew drifts of powdery snow against the side of the house.  


He shivered and curled up in the blankets, feeling for all the world like the frightened child he had been when he had left home to study in the city. Being alone in the dark brought back too many unpleasant and lonely memories and he fought to push them away, but the thoughts continued to invade his mind. Thoughts of home, of the gossip that must have already spread like wildfire through the town, of his mother sitting alone at the table again wondering if her son was safe and why he had been taken away so soon after returning home. Jean’s heart ached at that. Why oh why had he returned home when he did? A day later and he could have missed the ceremony completely and gone on with his life. He could have been something, could have brought his town some business and brought his mother somewhere nicer to live. Now all he had brought was confusion and chaos as traditions were upended, and while many parents would be putting their children to bed and thanking the gods for keeping their families together, Jean could only picture his mother alone and grieving.  


Being chosen as a Tamer was a great honor, granting the chosen few a place in the history books as members of a secretive and noble cult, but few who left their villages ever returned. Most often the goodbyes said in the town square would be the last words exchanged between the chosen and their families. And Jean had not even had that last bit of comfort and closure.  


Gritting his teeth and swallowing hard past the lump in his throat, Jean squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to stop staring at the vaulted ceiling and to at least attempt to sleep again. But the question was inescapable, even as he drifted off at last and wandered the convoluted paths of his dreams.

‘Why me? Why did he choose me?’


End file.
